


Superlatives

by fairytiger



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 12:24:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4179765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairytiger/pseuds/fairytiger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Her story is that it’s Charlotte’s camera and she only had a basic understanding of how it worked when Charlotte loaned it to her and it’s Charlotte’s camera and she just sort of assumed that it had an automatic turn-off function.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Superlatives

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Diaphenia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diaphenia/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Camera's On](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/122331) by saucydiva. 



They didn’t give out a “Most Likely to Make a Sex Tape” superlative in Lizzie’s high school yearbook.

And if they did, she definitely would have bet on a certain other Bennet sister.

_Ahem._

\--

Her story is that it’s Charlotte’s camera and she only had a basic understanding of how it worked when Charlotte loaned it to her and it’s _Charlotte’s camera_ and she just sort of assumed that it had an automatic turn-off function.

“Why on earth would you think that?”

“I don’t know! My laptop goes to sleep if I don’t use the mouse for, like, ten seconds--”

“--cannot believe you’re getting an _advanced degree_ in this. Did you read the manual? Or watch the five minute instructional video I recorded specifically for you?”

“Saying ‘yes’ wouldn’t be very convincing right now, would it?”

“Not so much.”

\--

For the record (not that there isn’t already a very _very_ thorough visual record), if she’d known--if she’d had any idea that the camera would catch all of that, she would have put a stop to it.

_I think...you should ask him._

Lizzie bites down on her lip.

There’s a 97% chance she would have stopped it.

\--

She’d made the discovery later. Much later, after zippers were zipped and suspenders were...unsuspended from the door handle. She worked late to make up for her unorthodox lunch break and there, sitting in the same office, on the same bench, she pulled up her editing software, prepared for the Herculean task of making this look like Just Another Episode.

_Do you think Bing still cares about Jane?_

She watches herself blatantly stare at his mouth. No wonder he’d kissed her. 

He’d been the one to kiss her, right? That was not a thing she initiated.

The answer appears in front of her, a frantic meeting-in-the-middle of lips and hands that can’t seem to stay in any one spot for more than a moment before leaving to chart new territory. 

She waits. Waits for it to go to black because she assumes that the camera must know what’s happening here isn’t meant for preservation, like there’s a specific Lizzie Bennet parental control set up for “Darcy” and “sex”. 

It stays on.

When one of his shirt buttons flies at the camera, she closes her laptop with a yelp.

\--

“You know the crucial piece of information you’ve left out of all of this.”

“What?”

“How was it?”

“ _Charlotte Lu!_ ”

“Oh please, you’re dying to tell me.”

“My cause of death is embarrassment, nothing more.”

“You’re sure it’s not an inability to walk?”

“What has Oakland done to you?”

\--

“Can I come in?” Lizzie pokes her head around his door. Mrs. Reynolds had waved her through with a smile, a detail she doesn’t have the energy to overanalyze at this very second, but she doesn’t want to barge in either.

He looks up from his computer, blinking in surprise.

“Of course, please,” he gestures to a chair in front of his desk, though as soon as she takes it, he stands.

“Would you like some water?” he asks, already pouring a glass.

“No. Yes. Sure.”

They are truly terrible at this. His fingertips brush hers as he hands her the glass and she nearly drops it on his probably-heirloom oak desk. 

“So,” he begins. Right, she came to see him.

“I, uhh, have something that I think you should see,” she twirls the flash drive in her fingers, looking anywhere but directly at him.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, it’s a...rough cut, I guess you could say, of my latest video.” She glances quickly at him to gauge his reaction, if he sees where this is going.

He doesn’t.

“Alright…” he takes the flash drive from her carefully, like he’s trying not to spook her, and starts to insert it into his computer.

“ _God_ , no, do not watch it here,” Lizzie lunges for it, and he stills her hand.

“Lizzie, what’s wrong?”

“Just…” she stands, walking backwards out of the room. “Just watch it later. At home. In private. And then whatever you do with it...I don’t care. It’s your call.”

She leaves it at that, all but sprinting out of his office, and she swears she can still feel his eyes on her two floors below.

\--

“You want to know the worst part?”

“Worse than making a sex tape with your boss?”

“It was great.”

“I knew it. I could hear you walking funny.”

“I’m serious. It was unnervingly, amazingly, couldn’t-remember-my-name-until-he-was- _saying_ -it-great.”

“On the one hand, that’s a lot of information. On the other, go Darcy. Go you!”

“This violates every code of ethics I can think of; company policies, student conduct. Charlotte, I could get fired _and_ fail grad school.”

“Maybe they’ll grade on the curve of his ass.”

“I’m hanging up on you.”

\--

Lizzie’s awarding herself new superlatives that evening over a box of Joe Joe’s and a bottle of red wine. 

_Least Likely To Understand Basic Electronics._

_Most Embarrassing Bra and Panty Combination Worn During Surprise Sex._

_Loudest._

She slams her eyes shut at the thought and pours the last of the bottle. She figures she’ll be asked to clean out her desk come the next morning, so a hangover is the least of future Lizzie’s problems.

She walks to the kitchen to uncork bottle number two when there’s a knock at her door. 

_Most Likely To Show Up at Her Apartment at 10:00 at Night._

“Hello.” He says it like she was expecting him, like standing at her door soaking wet is par for the course these days. 

She gapes at him for a few moments before she finds her words.

“It’s raining?”

“Yes.”

“Umm, come in?”

He wipes his feet on her doormat, because of course he does, never mind that this apartment has probably seen an actual dead body and the dirt on William Darcy’s shoes might as well be diamond dust.

He doesn’t say anything, just surveys her apartment, and she’s suddenly hyper aware of the clutter of magazines on the coffee table, the piece of cookie stuck in her back molar, her sweater that’s probably not thick enough to disguise the fact that she’s not wearing a bra.

She crosses her arms across her chest.

“Can I get you something? Water or wine or--I don’t know if you’ve ever had a Joe Joe, but it’s basically a better Oreo--”

“I watched it.”

So he’s not going to wait until the morning to fire her. Now she really doesn’t have to worry about that hangover.

“And?”

He takes a step toward her, close enough now that she can see the raindrops clinging to the roof of his curls.

“It would be unwise to use that take.”

_No kidding_ she thinks, but the words get stuck as he takes her face in his hands and descends on her, kissing her like he could swallow her whole.

Without even feigning hesitation, she lets him.

\--

The next day, she pulls on the same dress she wore two days before. She finds her favorite key necklace and the black boots she stole from Lydia’s closet.

He’s in a crisp white shirt, a new button sewn in like it was there all along.

“Can I help you with something?”

And they start over again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for letting me play with your story, diaphenia!


End file.
